Sanguisorba Part II
by Lenora1854
Summary: Continuation. Vivien pays Ciel a visit and tries to find out more about the Lady in Red, Grell Sutcliff. R&R
1. Surprise

INSTALLATION 1:

"My Lady, you've received a letter from your cousin, the Earl of Phantomhive."

"Ciel? Well, give it here." Vivien grabbed the letter from her butler's gloved hands and tore through it. It was indeed a letter from Ciel. It read:

_Dear Cousin Vivien:_

_ I would be most honoured if you would pay me a visit one of these days. My doors are always open to you, and you may be interested in a curiosity from India._

_Ciel._

Clearly, her cousin had not written this letter. To begin, the penmanship was too perfect, while Ciel's letters tended to squeeze together and dip down into depression. Thus, she concluded it had been written by Sebastian Michaelis, Ciel's over-qualified butler (to say the least).

And this curiosity it spoke of? From India? Well, the butler did know how to pique her interest.

"Clifton!" she summoned, finishing her breakfast hastily and jumping from the bed, "We must away to Ciel's. Have the carriage ready within the hour." But, wait, what if she called during the day? An image Grell in the red dress, her hair flowing over her shoulders flashed before Vivien's eyes. She leaned back into the bed.

No, she won't call. Don't be presumptuous. Why would a lady like that call on someone like you? And with those few words of encouragement, she headed to the vanity desk and began rearranging her hair.

TBC


	2. Good Hunting

INSTALLATION 2:

Sebastian Michaelis had just finished cleaning the mansion—in all of its entirety—and preparing four different deserts for his rather demanding young master when he heard a carriage approaching from a considerable distance. He had also managed to confine the Indian surprise to his room, a not-so-extraordinary feat for a Phantomhive butler.

He was out the door within seconds to greet Lady Vivien, who, he noted, was in her casual attire: A cream blouse, a navy jacket, long pants with high-heeled boots, a matching ribbon around her thin neck, and her dark hair loose, thick around her head. She could not have arrived sooner, for a human.

"Sebastian! Truly, a pleasure," she exclaimed from down the path. "As always, I assure you. My, have you gotten taller? We'll have to change that."

He responded with the appropriate salutations, and a quizzical smile. There were qualities in her that he understood. Individualism, wit. Unlike their _present_ from India, however, she some sense of timing.

"May I inquire after your health, Sebastian?" a joke they often shared.

"I'm doing well. And your hunting?"

"I saw a cardinal last night, but I didn't quite catch her."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Actually, I should like to ask you about her… later." Sebastian raised an eyebrow quizzically. They were already at the doors of the library. Sebastian opened them. "If you wish, Lady Vivien." And bowed.

TBC


	3. The Earl, Desperate

INSTALLATION 3:

Ciel awaited her in the library, her favorite room. The smell of her favorite Irish tea blend wafted across the room and stank of bribery. What could he want from her?

"Ciel. May I say what a surprise it was to receive your letter? You've been working on your calligraphy," she smiled knowingly.

"Hardly," he answered dryly. "But I do require some…" he swallowed hard. This was difficult. "Some advice. From you."

"Oh?" she was shocked. Ciel? Ask her for advice? It was unheard of. He must be teasing.

"A certain Indian prince," he shuddered, "has invited himself into my house and is under the impression that he is my friend."

She responded with laughter. "Your friend? Whatever would give him that idea?"

"I need to get rid of him," urgency and desperation leaked into his voice. Oh, this was too good. She would certainly enjoy this to its full capacity.

"Well, I cannot respond until I know all the details."

He frowned, then finally, sighing, gave in. "But you must promise not to tell a soul."

She leaned in. "My lips are the most sacred tomb."

TBC


	4. Suggestions

INSTALLATION 4:

Her laughter was sickening. How much longer could he put up with this?

"You know, I met someone who knows you," now she was merely teasing. She would not take him seriously. "She was quite surprised to hear the name Phantomhive from me."

He was bored of circumlocution. "If you are suggesting I would be acquainted with prostitutes—"

"Ciel, how very scandalous of you! I was merely stating I had chanced on an acquaintance of yours—and of your late aunt. Not all the women I 'consort' with are prostitutes."

Ciel scoffed. This line of conversation was getting him nowhere. "Yes, well, don't mention it to Elizabeth." For a moment, he twirled his blue ring around his thumb. An acquaintance of Madame Red—very likely, she had quite a few. But a lady? Who knows me? This was beginning to bother him. "What was her name?"

"I have a good mind not to tell you now that you've been so disagreeable," she pouted teasingly.

"In that case, let us get to the matter at hand," he continued, losing interest.

"Fine. How are you planning on employing me to fix your… quaint Indian problem?"

"I need to do something with them, and Sebastian insists that tying them to the wine casings in the cellar would be far too inhospitable of me. At this point, it's all I can come up with."

"And Sebastian refuses to help?"

"Apparently, you cannot order someone to give you useful advice."

"Why, the devil." She rather admired Sebastian, especially now. "Have you considered giving them a job—a charge somewhere? That butler, Agni, seems rather a jewel, and quite capable of running a toy factory somewhere up North."

"I have. But I'm not interested in disposing of the butler, but of that ridiculous brat."

"Prince Suma?"

"Soma."

"Right. He's far too delicate for any serious occupation. Can't you create one, though? You're very imaginative for your toys—give him a toy."

"I already tried that. He spent a good twenty-four hours in front of the brand-new tele-vision screen."

"A different type of toy, then. Come now, let's review your properties. Think of someplace where there's really nothing to do. Somewhere that isn't valuable enough to you, that they can destroy at their leisure."

"I do have the London house…"

"Perfect. You hardly ever go to London, and when you do, you can always visit me."

"Not likely. But it's the best idea I've thought of so far."

"And it seems important. I'm sure they'll like it, guarding the city house."

"It's perfect."

"You're welcome." Oh, no, he wasn't about to thank her. After all, she was his cousin. He changed the subject.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me yet if he has a harem."

"Oh. My dear cousin, thank you for reminding me. It had quite slipped my mind," she smiled devilishly. Ciel rolled his eyes.

"Well, now that that's decided… I will beat you in chess," he resolved, pulling the chess box down from its place two feet above his head.

TBC


	5. Stalemate

INSTALLATION 5:

He did this every time, smiling smugly in his victory. He was such a child. "Checkmate." She kicked her own king down with a forefinger. But she respected his inability to let her win. At least there was nothing condescending about her cousin—simply opportunistic. He leaned back in his chair.

"You always give up the moment you lose your queen." Great. Psychoanalysis from Ciel Phantomhive.

"Perhaps I'm not fighting to protect a powerless king."

"Your priorities are all wrong—they always were." He knew right were to jab, and so did she.

"What, Ciel? Don't you care about your queen?" She let the irony sink. "You might understand if you had any interest in them." He swallowed, but waved her away coolly.

"I heard you won a culinary contest."

"Yes. Best curry recipe."

"Does that have anything to do with your Indian _friends_?"

"Rather in spite of them." She smiled. He had such a peculiar way of saying something in such seriousness that it sounded droll. It is, after all, rather difficult to imagine a child as embittered as her cousin was.

"Well, I expect your profits will double by the end of this season."

"Are you asking me for money, Vivien?"

"No, you arrogant buffoon, I was congratulating you for on—"

"CIEL! You didn't tell me you had guests! I might have missed them!"

Ciel merely muttered, "Oh, hell." As Vivien spun around.

TBC


	6. My Sanity for a Prince!

INSTALLATION 6:

Prince Soma Asman Kadar, 26th child of the King of Bengal, was bored out of his wits. He had prayed, meditated, drawn, played music, and eaten all the leftovers from the curry contest. He had even counted the steps in Ciel's master staircase, twice, and he had given up after fifteen each time. It occurred to him that Agni might entertain him in some manner, but he could not find him and assumed his khansama was somewhere fawning after Ciel's khansama.

Exhausted from conjuring something to do, he decided to go to the library and peruse some heavy encyclopedic volume—not for the text mind you, but for the pictures.

As he approached, Prince Soma recognized voices from within. Ciel! And someone else. The natural reaction: barging in on his host thoughtlessly.

"CIEL! You didn't tell me you had guests! I might have missed them!"

Ciel muttered something disagreeable as his guest spun around in the chair to face the doors. She was pretty, but nowhere near as beautiful as his Mina… Mina! He still missed her horribly, but he recalled Ciel's words about becoming a gentleman and sniffled pathetically instead. Anyway, her chin was too pointy, her eyes too disproportionately large, he remarked as he studied her up close.

"Prince Soma, I presume?" she extended a hand. He stared at it dumbly before introducing himself properly.

"Prince Soma Asman Kadar, 26th child of the King of Bengal," and extended his own hand limply. She dropped hers and turned to face Ciel. Was she not going to kiss his hand? How rude!

"Ciel, I do hope you're inviting me to dinner."

Ciel muttered simply, "Dammit."

TBC


	7. Handshakes are Quite Continental

INSTALLATION 7:

Vivien spun around to see a surprisingly beautiful Indian boy standing, exasperated, in the doorway. He was angelically gorgeous, with amber eyes and lavish hair tied up in a ponytail. He walked up to her and stared at the small space between her eyes. "Prince Soma, I presume?" and she extended her hand for him to either kiss or shake.

"Prince Soma Asman Kadar, 26th child of the King of Bengal," he corrected, and offered a bent, down-facing hand. He was clearly suffering from some sort of culture shock that led him to barging into rooms, unabashed, and expecting strange ladies to kiss his hand. Or else, he was humorously insufferable.

Amused, Vivien spun to face her cousin. He was staring with intense concentration at a loose thread on his chair, awaiting the inevitable.

"Ciel, I do hope you're inviting me to dinner."

"Dammit."

"Allow me to impose further on your generosity," she replied with gentility. It was always such good fun to torture him.

"Agni!" and another Indian man , white haired and of impressive stature, appeared. The depth and kindness of his eyes, however, were for his master alone. "I want dinner!"

"Well, we might as well get this over with," and Ciel snapped shut his watch with emphasis.

"I do hope you're going to show me your precious new curry…"

Ciel groaned. "No. More. Curry."

TBC


	8. 1889

INSTALLATION 8:

"Allow me to congratulate you, Sebastian, on your culinary expertise," she said, chewing on a particularly tasty morsel. "This curry is delicious."

"Thank you, Lady Vivien."

"Ciel, your butler is an absolute _God._"

"No," corrected Sebastian, "I am merely a butler."

"Right, sure. Have you heard about Paris?" her question is met by silence and scraping silverware. Prince Soma was stuffing his face, as usual, and Agni was wiping it most diligently. Ciel glanced over in disgust.

"No. I assume you're going to tell me?" responded her cousin.

"Some chap named Gustave something-or-other has built a monstrosity of a tower in its very center. It's a huge triangular sort of thing and is said to surpass the Americans' own Washington Monument. God, what was that man's name? Sauvestre?"

"Why?"

"Why build a massive pyramid in the heart of the city? Why, Ciel, because they're French, of course. Why else do anything the French do?"

After a few minutes of blessed silence, Ciel asked, "Are you acquainted with Van Gogh?"

"Not personally, no."

"I don't like it."

"No, me neither. They're splotchy things without the classic beauty of a good Waterhouse. It'll go out of style in under a year—trust me."

"I seem to recall you owning a Waterhouse."

"I do. Two. He paints the most fantastic wome—

At last, a subject in which Prince Soma had considerable expertise. It also helped that he had swallowed the last piece of curry on his plate. "I painted an elephant the other day! I also painted the goddess Kali! It was a masterpiece deserving of her great strength."

"How lovely of you," said Vivien, with condescending sweetness.

"Yes, and then I made a portrait of Ciel while he painted a bowl of fruit," he added with distaste. "It's not surprising he's unmarried, when he isn't familiar with the true shape of women—" At the point when Ciel was turning red, some prodigious object hit Prince Soma in the back of the head, interrupting his brain waves. Agni had to be summoned to kiss it better. Sebastian was looking particularly smug.

Regaining his habitual paleness, Ciel recommenced the conversation. "Speaking of murder-suicides, are you aware of the occurrence in Mayerling?"

"Crown Prince Rudolf?"

"Yes. And Mary Vetsera. Double-suicide or murder-suicide?"

"Oh, a double-suicide is always so much more romantic."

"Which is why it was probably a murder-suicide."

"Probably."

"One of the servants in my palace in Bengal committed suicide, but nobody much liked him anyway. There are over three hundred and forty rooms in my palace. I know. I had Agni count them."

Ciel sighed, and Vivien grinned. Sebastian looked checked the time in a fraction of a second. Time was excruciating in the human world.

TBC


End file.
